


The Magick Shoppe

by Mozzarella



Series: The Magick Shoppe [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, F/F, M/M, Magic, but also androids still exist because I like to make things complicated, everyone's a magical creature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 23:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: Connor is a Made Thing turned Witch, and Hank is the only human in the magick-filled Town. Everyone considers him a bit of a cryptid, but Connor's just head over heels.When High Witch Amanda's newest Made Thing runs away to the human world, they find themselves in charge of tracking it down.They do... and they don't.For the Hankcon Reverse Big Bang 2019!





	The Magick Shoppe

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Hankcon Reverse Bang 2019, which has mutated into a bigger universe than first anticipated. I won't say there'll be a sequel, but there'll probably be a sequel. 
> 
> The artist that inspired this AWESOME concept with their AMAZING art is @hobovampire over on Twitter! You can find their work here! https://twitter.com/thehobovampire/status/1167573916019240963
> 
> I rated it General Audiences but it has cussing because Gavin is in it a little.

It was a popular game among children to enter the Shoppe alone, if only to say they’d done it, and try to get a glimpse of the strange creature that ran it over the high top counter.

The creature was quite tall and broad, though still much too small to be a troll, let alone a giant. He was hairy, almost like a werewolf, but his eyes were all wrong and his hair wasn’t like werewolf fur—it was thin, grew in strange, and was silver in the light, though some of the elders claimed it had once been brown that sometimes shone gold. It seemed a bit too magical an explanation for someone so… not.

Not magical. Not a witch, though he resembled their lot the most. Not a werewolf nor vamp, and certainly no spirit nor fae.

A human. The one human that operated in the shoppe. The one human that operated in the Town, who got leave to enter the capital without being turned away at the gate by North’s enforcers.

There were many stories surrounding this human’s past dealings with beings of magic, many of which seemed much too outlandish to be true. One claimed he was wed to a faery who took his son when she returned to the Town, and he chased after her in order to be with his child, and The Warren’s Fae allowed him to remain and run the Shoppe and deal between humans and Townspeople, selling human wares to the Town and bringing home little miracles for his human city.

Another claimed that he lost his son early in life, and stumbled blind drunk into the Town by accident, and ended up saving Shaper Elijah before the enforcers could remove him.

Another still said he was simply a clever human who won a riddle game against Seer Chole herself, and received the Shoppe as compensation.

Connor didn’t know which of these was true. He thought he might ask, but he was too enthralled by Hank’s voice, his gestures as he released the security spells on the flowering Purity Connor had dropped off earlier in the week, telling Connor of his previous work as an officer of the law, and how he and his old partner (the bastard, Hank kept saying, though Connor knew from Hank’s odd speech that this was simply one of his precautions against dangerous true name spells, and that Hank’s partner’s name was not, in fact, The Bastard) had once stopped a thief from stealing a crystal flower from an exhibition.

[ ](https://twitter.com/thehobovampire/status/1167573916019240963)

[by thehobovampire](https://twitter.com/thehobovampire/status/1167573916019240963)

“Was the crystal flower some sort of human artifact? A power source?” Connor asked, and Hank chuckled, shaking his head. He answered many questions (at least, many of Connor’s questions) that way, and once Connor had asked why, to which Hank responded that the Town was so very different from the human city in which he lived, and thinks worked differently in ways that he was still learning even after years running the Shoppe, sometimes caught off guard by things he knew to be True in human terms but not so in the Town.

“Ah, no, Con,” Hank said. “It was just crystal. Really expensive crystal, made by some rich as—ah, artist selling to even richer people. Bright side? Got compensated with some free jewelry, and I got to get my ex-wife an early Christmas present. She liked that she could brag about how expensive it was, and pretend I bought it for her.”

“It had no use, but brought you status?” Connor asked, brows rising high.

“Yup. That’s humans for you. We all collectively attributed worth to money, then collectively attributed worth to useless items you can pay for with lots of money. It’s not like here, where you trade for tools and spells,” Hank explained, handing the flowering Purity to Connor, who smiled at the little buds growing out the sides of the main blossom. Hank had clearly given it the attention it craved, for it to have grown so much. “But then again, we do individually decide on the worth of stuff we trade, so maybe it’s not that different.”

“I hope you don’t take offense for me saying this,” said Connor, feeling his cheeks pink even as he forged on, “but humans are strange.”

Hank laughed, and Connor felt his heart warm even as his stomach felt heavy, given a gift he did not ask for nor earn, one that Hank gave freely—his joy.

“You don’t know the half of it, Con,” Hank said, smiling at Connor’s flush. Subtly, behind his back, Connor turned his ring to strengthen the security wards on the Shoppe the slightest amount, just so Hank didn’t notice the subtle trade.

“I’ll see you again. Soon. I mean, when I need something. But maybe even if I don’t?” Connor stuttered, taking one, two steps back toward the door.

Hank looked at him almost too knowingly, giving Connor a jaunty, friendly wave.

“Anytime, Connor. I mean it.”

Connor waved back, feeling the warmth in his chest triple as he backed out the door.

* * *

Connor was a Made Thing, created by Shaper Elijah some years back. Though for all intents and purposes, he was a witch, same as his friends and colleagues and many of his fellow Townsfolk, he came to life not as witches did, but as a gift from Shaper Elijah to a high witch called Amanda, who had at the time wanted nothing more than a Simulacrum that resembled witches, who would assist her in her endeavors.

But Connor, like most of Elijah’s special order Made Things, was much too real, and Amanda was disappointed when she had to release him into the world as a witch.

Connor had not seen her since, not until his latest case, but high witch Amanda was never one for friends, having no concept of affableness and no responsibility for Connor, who used his previous knowledge and newfound individuality to do work with North’s enforcers, tasked to watch after other Made Things who were not as well balanced as Connor was.

Not that Connor felt particularly well-balanced. Around Hank in particular, Connor felt entirely off-balance, and entirely uncertain, his heart glowing and growing whenever he found himself in the human’s Shoppe.

Markus, one of Elijah’s most real Made Things, a gift who grew from childhood to adulthood under the guidance of Shaper Carl, assured Connor that this was normal for people who had selves, like Connor did. He impressed upon Connor how strange it was to feel so for a human, but was still kind enough to explain the ins and outs of the warm feelings, ones which Markus himself shared with Josh.

“Be careful,” Markus advised. “Hank’s great, but he’s still human. We know of all the Townspeople and their needs and wants, but humans are… unpredictable. Why do you think there aren’t any around Town?”

“But couldn’t the argument be made that it’s a good sign Hank is the _only _human in the Town? That he’s worthy enough that he’s the exception to the… human problem?” Connor had said in turn, and Markus laughed, knowing he had been outwitted.

“You always were too perceptive,” Markus said. “Is that not the first reason Amanda found out you were real?”

“I think it was when I refused to help her summon a six-tier smoking demon that she really began to suspect,” said Connor. “But I truly do not believe that would have benefited her or the town in any way, and I doubt she’d still be in Town if she succeeded.”

Markus snorted. “That woman. Always two offenses away from expulsion.”

“I’d rather she be here in Town than anywhere she can’t be controlled,” Connor said. “She’s always been so… empty, as a witch. I’d hate to see where that leads.”

* * *

Of the Town, there were few Connor could call friend, though those he did were dear to him in his newfound sense of self.

Kara had, for a time, been cautious of Connor, his work bringing him to her apothecary often.

Before North, the Town’s enforcers were said to come down hard on those that did not count among the Townspeople’s largest group, the witches and high witches who looked much the same as each other, refined in look and speech and, in many minds, better than the rest. Hedge witches like Kara were looked down upon, and Kara herself seemed an immortal with a youthful face that had seen much of this hardship firsthand.

When Connor asked about it, once (and Kara had looked at him as though he had grown a second head, though he had had safeguards in place to prevent such a side effect), Kara revealed that the high witches in particular did not like hedge witchery because any creature or being could do it with knowledge and practice, and it did not need the inherent talent flouted by many of the witches residing in the Town and its greater territories.

They also despised her specifically because of her seeming immortality, the secret of which she did not share to others. Despite this, and despite the envy of powerful forces, Kara was well-respected and well-loved by certain specific powers within the Town, and with that came an unprecedented amount of influence and protection for her and hers. In her youth, she befriended Seer Chloe, who many a high witch respected and feared, almost as much as they feared her patron, Shaper Elijah.

That, and the interest Shaper Elijah expressed in her work, as well as her eventual friendship with Shaper Manfred, kept her and her companions, the enormous faery named Luther and their child-ward, the changeling called Alice, well-protected.

Kara was one Connor was happy to call friend, for she was firm and unyielding, yet a healing force for many. She had no qualms calling non-witches friends and family, and she and North hit it off early on, with North going from Made Thing to Warg and finding Kara’s gentle strength wholly appealing.

Enforcers had long since favored witches over other beings in the Town, and North being assigned the task was an affront to many, but a welcome change to the majority that was non-witches as a whole, who, despite being minorities in their own right, united in understanding when it came to their disdain towards imagined witch supremacy.

Connor himself had been made to look as witches did in order to ingratiate him with their population, and he was aware that it was a conscious decision on the part of his Shaper, and therefore the reality they existed in. It helped, in his time with the enforcers.

Connor was a special sort of enforcer, on their side but not quite _them _enough to be counted as one himself. He was more of a hunter in the beginning, one who searched for what the enforcers could not catch up to. He had always had a sharp eye. Even before he knew himself and what of himself was _real, _he knew what he could achieve. It was how Elijah had made him, and how he flourished under Amanda even as he could feel her approval of him slipping each day he showed just a little too much perceptiveness, just a little too much… well.

Hank would call it humanity, but nobody else in the Town would say such a thing and mean it well.

Connor called it… self. He had too much self to belong to Amanda.

Even before Markus had shared with others his knowledge of self, the only made thing that grew from childhood, Connor already had a sense of self that rivaled most. North called him odd, and sometimes something more unsavory than odd (though Connor weathered it with the knowledge that North was the most faithful of friends, who would fight for him, and had fought for all of them, when it mattered).

Markus laughed and called him… rebellious. Ironic, for Markus to say.

Connor supposed it was a fair assessment. For how many Made Things, let alone how many witches, found themselves so enamored and so full of adoration for a human?

And Connor knew that adoration was what it was. He was no fool, and perceptive to many things, including his own heart.

The Purity that he had received from Hank was to be used in a spell, one that Connor would perform with hedge witch Kara’s help, but it grew so big and flourished so much that Connor was able to take a small cutting and keep it in a vial, one which he hung around his neck and resting on his heart.

And even as he and Kara and Luther energized the spell – two petals of Purity, a pinch of Fear, and a cutting of Warmth in Wintertime – Connor could feel the piece above his heart pulse with the power of his desire.

“Here he is,” said Kara, pointing to the place on the map of the Town that they had laid out over her work table.

The map changed, as any map of the Town did, but even Connor—who had a great sense of every corner of the Town from his work with North—could not recognize the place marked on the map.

“What is that?”

Kara looked uneasy, but it was Luther who spoke up, sounding more shaken than Connor reasonable expected from someone so calming.

“That’s one of our gates. To the human world.”

* * *

The case was simple, but it cut close to home for Connor, who felt himself stiffen when he walked through the threshold of high witch Amanda’s domain. If it wasn’t for Markus at his side exuding easygoing calm and North exuding the same calm, but with more violence underneath the surface, Connor would have allowed the fear to overtake him—strange and unnecessary fears of the high witch taking him back, taking away what Self he had found in his time away from her.

She could not. It was not allowed. But still…

What he found out from the cold witch, colder than he remembered, was that another of Shaper Elijah’s creations had, in her words, deviated.

“I had asked for one like Connor, but less likely to deviate from its service,” said Amanda, and Connor clenched his jaw to keep from speaking.

He wondered if he should blame Shaper Elijah for making him too… him, or Amanda herself for not seeing it. Not allowing him the freedoms he so passionately sought in spite of her control.

“It has served me well for a year now,” said Amanda. “Intelligent, but not prone to presumption. Obedient. But a week hence, it… left. I have not been able to track it.”

“High witch, you are aware that The Town prohibits you from repeating the actions you took that led to Connor breaking free?” Markus said coolly, even his warmth extinguished by Amanda’s lack.

“I am fully aware of the conditions of my own censure from The Town’s Authority and Warren’s Fae, witch Markus. It does not prevent me from acquiring another Made Thing, so long as this one remained tethered to its purpose. And had I attempted any more… ill-advised summonings, your enforcer friend’s spells would have been warned of it. I am simply asking for assistance in locating some lost property. I am aware that Connor is the most capable of the enforcers in that regard.”

“Witch Connor,” Markus said sharply. “If you know of his strengths, then know that his title prevents untoward familiarity from unwanted elements.”

“Will witch Connor take on this case, then?”Amanda said without missing a beat.

Connor cleared his throat, signaling for Markus to yield. “I will, high witch Amanda. If you give us the tools, we will undertake this investigation into your misplaced Made Thing and return him to you posthaste. Granted,” he added, before Amanda could even begin to relax (not that anyone knew when she did except Connor, who had always had an eye for these things), “that this Made Thing has not gone the way of your last possession.”

And with that, Connor left, satisfied that he had left the cold, high witch shaken, for all that she could be moved.

* * *

“Well that’s a fucking terrible idea,” said Hank when Connor came to him with the proposition the day after Kara’s spell located Amanda’s missing Made Thing.

“Please, Hank. Made Things without selves were not made to survive a world apart from this one,” Connor said. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“Sure, Con, but I also know you’ve been dying to see the human world since you asked me about it the first time,” Hank said. Connor’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t realized that Hank had picked up on his fascination, but felt something inside him grow just a little colder at the thought that he’d been so transparent about his more than academic interest in the world Hank lived in.

“This isn’t about that,” Connor said, softly. Hank, at least, seemed to understand his gravity, and sighed, wiping his face.

“I know. You’re damn good at your job. Best in the Town, and considering the shit that people get up to here on a daily basis, that’s no small feat. But Con… the human world is something entirely different. I spend most of my time here behind the counter and I know that. If you need to go, you have to be prepared. Be careful, and given I’m one of the only people here that knows how it works on a personal level, you have to listen to me when I tell you something’s beyond what you’ve ever had to deal with in the Town.”

Connor nodded quickly, reaching out to touch Hank’s hand.

“Adapting to unpredictability is one of my strengths,” he said assuredly as Hank looked at where their fingers made contact, bemused by the soft, barely there glow that came of the touch.

“Good thing. Humans are nothing if not unpredictable,” said Hank, flexing his hand, the glow expanding for a moment before the connection broke.

* * *

They gathered at the Shoppe—Connor, Markus, Josh, and North, assigned or volunteered in finding and retrieving their missing Made Thing.

Connor was the hunter, and he would find them their target with ease. Markus was a leader, and was the most adept of the Made Things at magic, his owner turned father Shaper Carl Manfred having taught him from spell-induced youth. Josh was quick-thinking and peaceable, his aura preventing unnecessary conflict. And, of course, North was there to ensure that whatever conflict _was _necessary would be dealt with swiftly and with little incident.

Hedge witch Kara came to see North off, looking deeply disturbed even as the three discussed their plans. It was not advised for any apart from the Made Things to make the journey, apart from Hank himself, who was their foremost expert and was of the world, in no more danger there than he was at the Shoppe.

“Be careful,” said Kara, trembling as North kissed her forehead in assurance. “It’s a dangerous world out there.”

“You sound like you have experience,” said Markus thoughtfully, and Kara shrugged, looking around cautiously, her gaze stopping at Hank, who looked all too perceptive as her hand came up to rub at the side of her temple.

“Luther knows,” Kara said, a bit breathless. “He knows how dangerous it is. Alice was young then, so I haven’t since asked her if she remembers, but she must—”

“Kara,” said North, her touch grounding against Kara’s cheek. “What is it?”

“You remember when I told you… when I told you how old I was? When we first began to… see each other? After you found yourself?” asked Kara.

“Of course. You said you had stopped aging because of your hedge magicks, handling ideological essences that make you functionally immortal. That it was the same of Luther, and that you had to ask the high witches to grant Alice age.”

“She’s from the human world,” said Hank suddenly. It sounded as though he just then came to the conclusion, but from Kara’s defeated nod, it was safe to say he was correct in his assumption.

“Ah shit,” Hank muttered. “I thought maybe it was a coincidence. You saw a face in the human world through one of your water mirrors and decided you liked it.”

“This is the face I’ve always had, Hank,” said Kara, shrugging. “But not the name I always had. I was once an AX400 housekeeping model from Cyberlife. Kara was the name Alice gave me when her father broke me, and we ran. We met Luther on the way. We ran together for a while, until we found a door to the Town in an abandoned amusement park outside city limits.”

Connor looked between Kara and Hank, puzzled and intrigued.

“What’s an android?” asked Markus warily, looking Kara up and down as though everything would clear up. North looked confused, but she kept her hand on Kara, unafraid.

Hank’s mouth quirked into an ironic smile. “They’re like… Made Things. Made to look human, to serve us and fulfill functions we got too lazy to do ourselves. There were a bunch of reports of them going missing, and a few rumors circling that they were up and leaving of their own free will, but it was an old horror story and we didn’t put much stock into it. Computers coming alive, rebelling against their human creators.” His mild amusement fell away when he looked at Kara. “But I guess they weren’t just stories, huh?”

“They still look at me with hatred here,” Kara said softly, “but I’m free. My family is free. I fell in love with someone who understood what I went through, even if I never talked about what I was. I’m sorry.” The last, she directed at North, who shook her head and grinned with all her sharp teeth.

“You’re like me. How could I be mad at that?” North wondered, kissing Kara softly.

Hank came over, putting a hand on Kara’s shoulder. North looked wary, but Kara just looked confused.

“I’ll keep ‘em safe, I promise,” Hank said seriously, and Kara smiled, laying her hand over Hank’s. For a moment, her skin seemed to draw back, revealing white underneath, and Connor remembered, briefly, the bodies of Made Things that he had seen when he had visited Shaper Elijah while under Amanda, when Elijah worked on empty shells made from wood and stone and gem and bone.

To think that the human world had them as well…

“Let’s go. We have to get that Made Thing back before anything happens. And if we can, find a way to help him find himself,” said Markus, wryly.

Connor chuckled. “Amanda wouldn’t like that at all.”

“Exactly.”

* * *

Connor remembered many things from his time with Amanda. One of the most precious of his memories, even when he did not know what feeling was, or that he was capable of it, was the first time he came to the Shoppe.

Hank owned the Shoppe for as long as Connor could remember, and he had not known Connor was a Made Thing when he entered. He had simply remarked on Connor being a newcomer, and treated him like a person, Connor’s questions (many of which were not ones he was told to ask, though it was not against orders to collect such information) making his face light up, making him look, if not younger, then fuller in face and soul.

“Don’t know what kind of upbringing you got that you don’t know what a whizzbang is,” said Hank, gesturing to the magic fireworks on the corner shelf. “Kids love these things. Fae, Wargs, Vamps, Dwarves, Elves, heck, even humans—as long as you’re a kid, things that light up and blow up are always great for a laugh.”

“I was never a kid,” Connor had said, though he followed the whizzbang topped with a dragon made of paper with his eyes as Hank took it down.

Hank raised an eyebrow before coming over, eyeing Connor suspiciously.

“Ah, shit. You’re a Made Thing, aren’t you?” Hank said, shoulders dropping. Connor couldn’t tell why, but that made him fee—it made his own shoulders drop slightly in the sympathetic action Made Things were capable of. “Damn, but they make you guys realer every day.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said suddenly, if only to stop Hank from taking that tone. He sounded so disappointed. Connor could fee—didn’t wan—he held his hands out in a gesture of peace. “I’m sorry if I have led you to believe you were speaking to a true witch. It was not my intention to mislead.”

Hank shook his head, barking a short laugh without mirth.

“You didn’t lead me to anything, kid. Don’t worry.” He looked down at the dragon whizzbang in his hands with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. “If you were literally just born yesterday—”

“I was created some months ago, sir—”

“It’s an expression, kid,” the man said, raising an eyebrow. “And I’d appreciate it if you called me Hank. Everyone does. Did you want to see this thing in action?”

Connor, at the time, was meant to say no. But he hesitated.

“My mistress wishes me to return posthaste,” said Connor quietly.

“That’s not a no to the wanting,” said Hank, looking thoughtful and giving Connor the sharp-eyed look that he had come to associate with the man.

“Made Things do not want,” said Connor.

Hank hadn’t looked like he believed him then.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he had said.

* * *

Some weeks later, Connor was free.

He had yet to make good on Hank’s promise, but the dragon whizzbang remained on the shelf, untraded.

* * *

Their first steps into the human world began in a little forest in a park, and Hank led them to the entrance gate. Connor knew what a car was from Hank’s descriptions, but it was still intriguing for all of them to see when Hank flagged what he called a driverless taxi.

“Not very different from the Town, if you have these,” said Josh thoughtfully as they all piled in.

“Yeah, but these ones, you gotta pay for,” Hank said, shrugging as he swiped a strange card against a black terminal. “Wonders of technology.”

Detroit was a sparkling city, yet Connor felt strangely bereft as he looked on its glass and concrete. The world was devoid of magick, and he hadn’t known what that would feel like until he came.

It did, however, make it easier for him to sense where there were traces of it—especially that which kept a Made Thing running.

When they arrived at Hank’s home, he found it… empty. Not just of people, but of… anything, really. Like it had been built for more than it held.

As they crossed the threshold, with Hank telling them he hadn’t quite cleaned up and apologies for the mess, Connor spotted the one living thing in the house, and walked over, enthralled by the large, furry creature snoring on the floor.

“Hello there,” he greeted softly when the creature stirred. It snuffled against Connor’s hand and he giggled delightedly.

“Sumo,” said Hank warmly. “That’s his name. Mostly the one keeping me here, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how well he’d do in a place full of strange magicks, and, well… he’s old and comfortable, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Thank you for welcoming us into your home, Hank,” Markus said. Josh concurred, and North just sniffed, giving Hank a brief nod as she surveyed the area.

“Too many strange scents. It’s overwhelming,” she muttered.

“City air’ll do that to you,” Hank shrugged. “Listen, I’m fine with you guys using my house as home base while you look around for your missing Made Thing, but let me try and pick up some leads first. I’ve got contacts in the police department—kinda like your enforcers, North. They may not have your nose, but they’ve got resources. Could look into incidents with unidentified perps, could look into weirder shit. Lemme give ‘em a call.”

The call, turned out, was for the “bastard” Hank had spoken of in half fondness and half fuming hatred when he had told Connor stories of the human world. He spoke with him over a phone—the human way of communicating long distances which Connor marveled over.

“Yeah, weird shit, that’s what I said. Listen, Gavin, let’s not pretend you don’t know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Jeffrey’s got an eye out and knows to send ‘em my way, but you’re the guy who’s got his ear on the ground for this.”

Connor couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but the tone was defensive, so he closed his eyes and tried to map the lines of power moving through the circuits—so similar to the magic he himself understood—and found the man’s words, listening as he and Hank went back and forth.

“How do I know you’re gonna help anything anyway?”

“Because I know more about this shit than you do, and you know it. What aren’t you telling me, you bastard?”

“Jack shit, you old drunk.”

Hank sighed.

“Alright, dipshit. Hypothetically, if you did know something, why wouldn’t you say? I always figured you for an asshole but I know you’re not stupid enough to keep a magickal artifact around if you don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, well. From what I’m hearing whoever knows how to deal with this shit is a short list.”

Hank’s voice quieted. Josh’s ears twitched, and North looked attentive. They all had their own ways of listening in, and Connor wondered how Hank would feel if he knew that his call was being heard by everyone in the room.

“Gavin,” Hank said seriously. “Tell him they’re just like him. And they’re not gonna give him back if they can help it.”

The silence in the room was louder than any part of that conversation had been.

“Come over.”

* * *

He had no name. They believed that would make it easier to keep him from finding himself.

The funny thing was, that just meant it was easier for him to decide what he liked.

He sat upright on the couch in Gavin’s apartment as Connor walked in, and he stopped with wide eyes when he saw a reflection of himself—if colder than he was, broader and taller.

The human called Gavin was sitting aside, acting unimpressed and uninterested, but Connor could read the tension in his body and the way he seemed to stray to a black metal tool on the side table—a weapon, if he guessed correctly.

Hank raised his hands in a gesture of goodwill.

“Enter the fuckin’ freakshow,” Gavin muttered.

“Good evening to you to, Gavin,” Hank said, shaking his head. “Who’s your friend here?”

Gavin shrugged. “He said Richard.”

“A name?” said Markus. “Amanda said you didn’t have one.”

At the mention of Amanda, the mood in the room changed quickly, and the Made Thing—Richard—got up so quickly that not even North could react, and he had Hank up against a wall with energy crackling violently out of his hand.

“She sent you,” said Richard, his voice lower and harder than Connor’s had ever been. “Don’t move or the human dies.”

“Hey, hey! Shit—let him go you idiot!” Gavin said suddenly, his tone hard and desperate. “He’s a goddamn human being. You know what they’ll do to you if you blow him up?”

“We’re not here on Amanda’s behalf,” said Josh, his tone placating. “We just want to talk. We apologize for startling you.”

“Lies. She had as many as she needed to keep me in line. You’re here for her, on her order,” said Richard, voice shaking.

“No, brother. We’re here to help you,” said Markus firmly. “We will not deliver you back to Amanda. We swear it.”

Markus held a hand out, and beneath his skin was the stone with which he was hewn to life. It seemed to stop Richard in his tracks, his grip loosening, if only slightly. North followed suit, her own body crafted from bone and fur. Josh’s body was carved wood.

Connor shook his head. “You know who I am. You know why I would not bring you back to Amanda,” he said. “But if you hurt Hank, that will be the least of your concern.”

At that, Richard let Hank go, gently letting him back down onto his feet. Immediately, Connor rushed forward, putting himself between Richard and Hank to check the human over.

Connor nearly startled when a hand came up from his periphery, only to relax when he saw Gavin clap a firm hand on Hank’s shoulder.

“He’s scared,” Gavin said quietly. Hank nodded once.

“We’ll help him,” said Hank.

* * *

Connor felt her before he saw her, and he let nothing of his thoughts show when high witch Amanda walked through the door of the Shoppe. Hank didn’t look particularly happy, but he gave her a perfunctory greeting nonetheless.

“I suppose you’re proud of yourself?” Amanda said, addressing Connor without even deigning to look at him, instead looking down at the products Hank had lining the walls. “Pushing another to deviate as you did?”

“I did nothing, Amanda,” said Connor. “We came to an agreement regarding the conditions behind your Made Thing’s capture, and both the Town Authority and the Warren’s Fae deemed him too far gone to be returned. You have been compensated fairly, and any complaints should be leveled against the Authority.”

“I am aware,” said Amanda. She came forward, slow in her age yet still so powerful, making Connor feel her hostile magicks pulse around him like a vise. The aura shattered, however, starting from his chest where the vial of flowering Purity lay, pulsing with power that lit up the room.

“Careful, high witch,” said Hank from behind him, and Connor looked back with wide eyes as Hank pulled a few vials out onto the counter, each with their own pure source of power, some of which Connor remembered Kara speaking of. He recognized Purity, as well as Hope, Rage, Immovability, and the biggest of them—Love, pulsing in time with that which lay over Connor’s heart. “Using such magicks in a place full of power sources, siphons, and protective wards could kill even the most powerful Fae. High witches are no exception. The Shoppe is neutral ground, something you should know by now.”

Amanda said nothing, ever cold and ever unyielding, but Connor saw her eyes dart to each vial, eyeing the Love with the most consideration before turning her back.

“Apologies, human Hank. May the lights guide you… and yours… home,” said the high witch, an old greeting that Connor recognized among more elite residents of the Town. He saw Hank’s face harden at her words, his hand clenching atop the counter.

When he departed, Connor turned to Hank, taking his hand and bringing it to his face. It glowed between them, the same color as the strongest source on his table.

“Are you hurt?” Connor murmured.

“Are you?” Hank said, his tone harsh. Connor shook his head, looking up, and immediately the hard look on Hank’s face softened, and he brought their joined hands to his own face and kissed Connor’s knuckles.

“Come on,” Hank said, and he beckoned for Connor to join him behind the counter, where he pulled the Purity over Connor’s heart and tipped Love into the vial, the two joining into one stronger than either alone.

Connor grinned, finding an empty vial in his coat and wrapping a chain around the neck, tipping half the contents of his vial into it and presenting it to Hank. Hank gestured to the dragon whizzbang on the shelf, and Connor laughed and kissed him.

That night would be the first time Connor had ever seen a whizzbang in action, but what remained more memorable to him was the pulse of the vial over his heart and the heart of one he loved.

* * *

Somewhere in the Town, powers shifted, and a threat rose silent, with nobody to hear it.

* * *

Somewhere in the human world, with another man’s head resting in his lap, a Made Thing named Richard feared.

And on TV, a revolution began.


End file.
